Loss
by RedWheeler
Summary: He wasn't really Hilary's grandpa. Oneshot.


This is heavily influenced by the week I spent in the hospital with my Mom.

 **Summary** : He wasn't really Hilary's grandpa.

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Beyblade.

Loss

He wasn't really Hilary's grandpa.

She could still remember when they graduated high school, her own family decorating the crowd, all smiles and cheers. But it wasn't them she heard yelling loudly in the crowd as she approached the podium, just announced as valedictorian. She could still see Tyson jumping to his feet, arms pumping into the air and acting like a complete lunatic as if he had no idea she would be awarded this position. It was touching, but not surprising. What touched her more was that rows back Tyson's grandpa, not hers, was basically mirroring his actions, shouting about his home girl. She could still remember gripping her cue cards at the podium, not out of fear, but because she wanted to cry.

It's been a few years since that night. She last saw Tyson and his grandpa back in the Summer. She had come home from University classes for a brief break. Tyson, too, was back in town. While he was older, he was still the brash and charismatic boy she grew up with. They would talk on the phone sometimes, but mainly emailed each other due to their busy semesters. It was always weird to see him. He seemed thinner, but still muscular. Maybe more subdued? She wasn't sure. She didn't push, not wanting to cause any tension the one time they saw each other in the year.

His grandpa though, he definitely seemed more frail. Still grandpa – the same lingo, outfits, and pride. But he was definitely thinner, his veins visible in his arms and dark bags under his eyes. It was startling. When she thinks of him, she's still fourteen and he's training in the yard. It was different now. Tyson hovered around him, much to his grandpa's disapproval, him swatting Tyson away and insisting he is fine. Hilary tried to tell herself Tyson was just being protective after not seeing the older man in a long time. She told herself he's not really as old as he looked, she just hadn't seen him in a while either. He still had more energy than her and Tyson combined.

Grandpa had taken her hand softly and gave it a squeeze later in the afternoon when they were alone. His eyes were shining as he told her how proud he was of her and how beautiful she had become; that one day there would be a poor boy who wouldn't know what to do with himself when she just smiled. She laughed, not sure why he was telling her this, and gave him a huge hug saying that she'd be back for the holidays and that she couldn't wait to see him and Tyson again. He gave her a smile and patted her on the back, telling her how much he would love that with a weird look in his eyes.

He wasn't really Hilary's grandpa.

It doesn't really matter though, when she got the call in the middle of the night she booked a flight and gets on the plane within hours. Her bag is full of mostly useless items grabbed in such a panic that she'll have to stop by her parents' home for clothes at some point. She's thankful her phone has a decent amount of charge to email her University professors about her absence from class, hoping her reputation as a good student carries her along with the small lie it is her family member in the hospital.

The call had come from Kenny, apologetic about waking her up. He was hesitant about crossing a line, but gave in knowing that Tyson probably just couldn't think. He doesn't say much, doesn't know much to be honest, just that Tyson's grandpa has been rushed to the hospital. Following this information is just silence on the phone, Hilary's brain trying to connect pieces in her drowsy state. As everything came together, she had jumped out of bed and started throwing things together, turning her computer on to look at flights as Kenny tried to explain he doesn't know how serious anything is because Tyson isn't responding anymore and that sends her more into a panic.

Just thinking about the call again made Hilary push through the airport impatiently as soon as they landed. She was out the door, hailing a cab, and on the way to the hospital with about a hundred people shooting her dirty looks. The cab driver hadn't even attempted a conversation, glancing at her in concern but not daring to open their mouth. When they arrived at the hospital, Hilary grabbed a bunch of bills from her wallet and all but threw them at the driver as she almost fell out of the cab itself. She wasn't sure if she gave them an amazing tip or ripped them off and for once she didn't really care.

It wasn't until she walked inside that she realized that it was very early in the morning, daylight not even breaking and that visiting hours were probably not happening. She hoped that maybe they'll pity her, clutching her travel bag and purse over her shoulder with her makeup smudged eyes showing a lack of sleep and panic. She was immediately sent to another floor and to another desk and her fingers are crossed that her tactics will work again. This time the women at the desk looked at her differently when she said who she was there for and Hilary didn't like it instinctively. It was a mix of sympathy and relief as one of the woman came out from behind the desk, putting a hand on her shoulder as she offered to show Hilary the way.

"I'm happy someone else showed up, he's been on his own all day."

For a moment Hilary thought she meant grandpa and she began to panic, but the nurse opened the door to the hospital room and there they were. It was dark in the room, the curtains weren't drawn, but dawn was beginning to set and the room was basked in blue. Her eyes fell on Tyson first, sitting forward on a chair with his arms perched on his knees and his chin sitting in one of his hands. He looked over to her, his expression flashing with confusion before relief and he was on his feet in seconds. Hilary didn't have a chance to even think of what to say before he had wrapped his arms around her. He'd never held her so tightly, his arms reaching around her middle and pulling her into his chest.

"Hil..."

His voice was coarse and she immediately wrapped her own arms around him, tucking her face into his shoulder. She felt the nurse touch them on the shoulders, letting them know that they would be back at the desk if they needed them.

The door closed again and the pair pulled away from each other far enough so Hilary could look over to the hospital bed. Grandpa was laying down and somehow looked even thinner than the last time she saw him. The dark circles under his eyes were deeper and his face more sunken into his cheeks. A part of her still felt like this wasn't real, that it made no sense. He seemed so peaceful, but it just felt so wrong.

Tyson squeezed her shoulder and her attention turned back to him. His eyes were red and he had a tight smile that was on the verge of breaking. She didn't know what to say so she pulled him into another hug and as soon as his head was back in the crook of her neck he sobbed. She told herself not to cry, rubbing his back as her own eyes started to sting with approaching tears. He needed her right now.

They didn't really talk. Even hours later when Tyson was sitting back in his plastic chair at his grandpa's side, leg bouncing and sneaker squeaking against the floor. Hilary played with her hands, leaning against the wall behind Tyson. The nurses had brought in another chair for her, but she felt better on her feet. Tyson didn't even know how Hilary found out, let alone how she got there so fast. He would look over his shoulder, forcing her a thankful smile, before his head would duck down again, eyes glued to his grandpa. Sometimes Hilary would pull up a seat beside Tyson, put a hand on his arm in allegiance, let him know she was still there when he would forget to look at her.

That was how most of the first day went. A lot of waiting around and supporting each other in the silence. It was only when Hilary felt a headache creeping onto her that she realized neither of them had eaten. She broke the silence first, feeling almost guilty about it, but claimed she was going to get them something to eat. Tyson grunted in acknowledgement, but when she came back with something for both of them he tried to wave it off.

"You're eating." She shoved the bowl of cafeteria food into his hands. She didn't want to leave the hospital and settled for whatever gelatinous material smelled the best. "All of it."

Tyson didn't argue, just grunted again. They both moved their food around with their spoons, the silence back in the room. Hilary couldn't help but notice the entire floor seemed to always be in silence, tucked away in a back corner. It was a fairly big room for just a single bed, decorated in a way Hilary assumed was supposed to be welcoming. It made her uncomfortable instead.

The food wasn't terrible. Bland, but edible. Her and Tyson both finished their meals around the same time and she wasn't sure if that had ever happened before. He even thanked her, but his eyes didn't move from his grandpa.

They're just waiting. That's how the nurses put it on the third day. There had been hand gestures involved that were supposed to help with their frailty. Hilary felt what hope she had left in her hands fall through her fingers in that instance. She wasn't surprised and neither was Tyson, both having watched grandpa with no change day and night.

"Sometimes it helps... if you talk to them. Sometimes they need to know it's okay to leave."

Tyson looked away from the nurse, his attention suddenly focused on the corner of the room. Hilary placed her hands on his shoulders as she had been standing behind him at the time. She squeezed him tightly, knuckles turning white as she struggled with her own emotions, not even knowing how he was handling his own. She knew she needed to support him.

After the nurse left, Hilary offered to give Tyson some time to be alone with his grandpa. Tyson didn't say anything, just inhaled loudly and hid his face in his hands. She rubbed his back before leaving, not knowing what to say or if there was even anything to be said at times like this.

She used the time to call some people. Their team mates, for one. She was only able to reach Max and Kenny, reaching voice mail for the rest. Max offered to fly to Japan right away, but she told him she didn't think it would help. She nearly broke into sobs and Max took the hint. He spent the rest of the conversation trying to soothe her and maybe it wouldn't have been too bad if he came down.

She also called her parents, who she had forgotten to contact days ago. They were surprised to hear from her, but offered to bring food and clothes in a heartbeat and anything else they might need. Hilary somehow held herself together better for this conversation.

Before re-entering the room, Hilary knocked on the door, not wanting to interrupt Tyson. "Come in," he acknowledged, his voice still quaky. She peeked her head in around the corner first, giving him time to collect himself further. He was perched on the edge of his chair, his hand holding his grandpa's, as his gaze met Hilary's for the first time in hours. "Hey... uh... I'm going to try and reach Hiro and my dad again, you know... they should be here." There was an edge in his voice that he kept trying to steel.

It was a topic Hilary didn't want to touch. For that matter, Tyson hadn't either. She knew he felt it was the right thing to do, it was one of the few reasons he would even make an effort to leave the room. His brother and father left a lot to be desired Hilary learned over the years and she hated to see Tyson be even more in pain than he already was.

"Can you stay with him?"

Tyson never really had to ask, but she reassured him she would be there the whole time by his side. Tyson nodded, squeezing her arm in appreciation as he passed her leaving the room.

Hilary had stood there awkwardly at first, being alone in the room with grandpa didn't happen very often or for very long. Truth be told, she rathered the company. Someone else to focus on. It broke her heart to see the frail man laying in bed. He always seemed to be so full of life and the wrongness she felt inside crept back into her stomach. Feeling sick, she took the seat that Tyson had once occupied at grandpa's bedside.

She thought about what the nurse had said. _Sometimes they need to know it's okay to leave_. It didn't feel right, let alone okay. She supposed it never did, not when the person was like grandpa.

Hilary took his hand carefully in her own, his skin cold to the touch. She placed her other hand on top and just held his. She wished she had a speech planned. Her mouth felt dry and her brain fried from days with little sleep.

"Grandpa, I don't really know what to say..."

It was true. She had so much she wanted to say, but nothing seemed right. Her words felt like so little, too little too late. She stared at her hands folded around his, tears beginning to prick at her eyes. She wanted to wipe at them with the palm of her hand, pushing them away again, but she kept her hands steady.

"I guess I never thought this would happen."

Never in a million years.

"I know... you're probably worried about Tyson. I think we all are. You know... me and the guys. You always looked after all of us, like we were all your grandchildren. And that meant a lot. _A lot_. I don't think you even know how much it meant to me to just... have you.

"But Tyson, he's, uh, he's going to be okay. I promise. We're going to look after him. _I'm_ going to look after him. He's going to be okay. Please... just know that."

Hilary wasn't sure of what else she could say.

Tyson popped back into the room ten minutes later. His head poked around the corner carefully as she had earlier, also not wanting to interrupt anything. She gave him a slight smile and nod to welcome him back into the room, leaving his seat to go back to her spot on the wall. Tyson looked between grandpa and Hilary and sighed.

"I wasn't sure what to say to him," Tyson admitted, his eyes misty. He knew this and hid his gaze by focusing on grandpa instead of his friend. "It's not like I want him to leave..."

Her heart broke at this. Even though it had broken about a hundred times these past few days, the feeling didn't get any easier. "I wasn't sure what to say either," she conceded.

"You always know the right thing to say, Hil."

All she could do was hope that was true.

On the fifth day the nurses tried to explain that people rarely die in front of those they're close to. They said this looking at Tyson, of course. He didn't seem surprised and confirmed Hilary's thoughts when he explained he was not leaving his grandpa to die alone in a hospital room and that he'd told them that before. They looked at Hilary in sympathy and she wasn't sure what they were trying to convey.

"I'm not leaving him."

Hilary gave him a look. "I'm not going to make you?"

"Sorry-"

"Don't, Tyson. It's okay."

They stared at each other for a moment and Tyson finally nodded. It was still just the two of them. They didn't talk about the odd call he made to his dad or his brother or why they still hadn't bothered to show up. Some of their friends had shown up, but never went into the room. This didn't seem to bother Tyson. They would meet up briefly in the hallway, exchange words and hugs and carry on. The hospital room seemed smaller every day.

Tyson was getting more stir crazy, not able to sit in the plastic chair for very long. Hilary was still glued to the wall as she watched him pace the room in a rhythm. Neither of them really knew what to look for – what the machines meant or what the charts read – but they knew his skin was getting darker and his face more shallow. It had to be soon. It needed to be soon.

Hilary felt bad thinking that. When she woke up in the morning and realized grandpa was still breathing and thinking it was going to be another day of this. Another day of just waiting. A week of waiting.

Both of them decided to go outside for a minute. A minute. They both stressed this, neither wanting to leave grandpa alone but both feeling stifled and needed the air. It was cold even though it was early in the afternoon, otherwise it appeared to be a beautiful day. People were walking past them on the sidewalk where they sat on a bench. Hilary was looking up to the sky, the sun welcomed on her skin as she took a deep breath. It was good to be out of the room.

Tyson was sitting forward on his knees, a habit he seemed to have formed over the years. His attention seemed to bounce everywhere, catching Hilary's attention. Their eyes met briefly before he looked away again.

"Something doesn't feel right."

Hilary put a hand on his shoulder, immediately aware of his anxiety. "Do you want us to go back up?"

"Yeah... I do. I need to go back up now." He was on his feet again, looking at her apologetically. She followed suit, hand back at his arm to show solidarity. He repeated, "Something's wrong."

They rushed back into the hospital, Hilary barely on his heels. When they reached the elevator, Tyson's cell phone vibrated and he paled looking at the number. He answered stiffly, meeting Hilary's eyes as the elevator slowly rose to their floor. He hung up the phone and was out the doors as soon as they opened, brushing past people in the hallway on the way back to grandpa's room. Hilary was behind him the entire time, holding her breath and praying but she wasn't sure for what.

Rounding the corner in grandpa's room, Hilary looked at the two nurses standing by his bedside. It was silent. No shaky breathing, no beeping of monitors. Tyson was standing before them, completely enraptured and shaking his head. She could feel her heart sinking into the pit of her stomach when one of the nurses approached Tyson.

"I'm so sorry."

And Tyson was broken. Every bit of strength he held onto for the past week was gone and he practically wilted. "H-he can't...," he stammered, he looked pleadingly at the nurses to no avail. In a second, he had turned to face Hilary. "He can't..."

Her heart broke again. Hilary had Tyson in her arms instantly and his wall crumbled further. He buried his face into her neck, loud sobs escaping as he shook. She rubbed his back and his arms attempting to soothe him, while her own tears threatened to run down her cheeks. She still wasn't sure what to say or do, but she's trying. She needed to try.

It was a blur after that. Eventually the nurses left the room to take care of some things. Tyson put his hand on his grandpa's, grasped it one more time before he instead decided to lean over for one more hug. Hilary did this as well and couldn't believe how different he felt, his skin cold and hard, and how numb it made her feel.

Hilary found herself thankful for the numbness later. It was better than feeling sick to her stomach all the time and it helped her guide Tyson through the coming days. Once again it was just the two of them during the preparations. The funeral was coming and it was like she was on autopilot. She laid in bed every night just wondering if everything was really happening.

Unfortunately, it was.

Tyson's brother and dad finally showed up. It was the viewing and the three men were lined up by grandpa's casket in a row. Their family wasn't a big one, but grandpa had touched a lot of people's lives through Tyson and the room was bustling. Tyson was last in the row, furthest from the open casket where grandpa laid peacefully dressed up in a simple outfit he requested. It was a tame Hawaiian shirt that made Hilary smile, grey with white floral print. Tyson's father was against it at first, but Tyson had fought tooth and nail.

"He looks good," Hilary commented when she sidled up to Tyson. She meant it. It hurt to see him laying there, but there was something soothing about how he looked now compared to the hospital. He almost looked like he was sleeping.

"How am I supposed to do this?" On the other hand, Tyson looked sickly.

"I'll stay with you." Hilary played with her hands, fingers joining to rest in her lap. "Beside you, if you want."

"You're incredible, you know that?" Tyson put his one arm around her, bringing her in for another of their hugs. She wanted to just rest her head on his shoulder and stay like that, wake up from this bad dream. "What would I do without you?"

The viewing wasn't that bad. There were lots of flowers everywhere in the room, some from people Hilary knew and some from even Tyson had no clue about. It was obvious grandpa had touched a lot of people. Like she promised, Hilary never left Tyson's side. She stood faithfully beside him, offering a reassuring hand on the shoulder when it was needed and more side hugs.

She bit her tongue whenever people acted like his brother and father were going through the same thing, watched Tyson stiffen when he overheard certain conversations. They hadn't grown up with grandpa. They hadn't watched him slowly die. All she could do was steel herself, stay strong at Tyson's side because she knew. The important people knew.

The funeral was when Hilary's nerves skyrocketed. There was reserve seating for family and Tyson insisted Hilary sit with them. She wanted to object, but Tyson was not having any of it. She finally agreed because his pleading was making her heart ache again and maybe he just needed her.

There was a curtain pulled down and the funeral director stated they were going to close the casket before the service. It was the last time they would see grandpa and Hilary finally broke. She felt stupid with Hiro and Tyson's father just staring at her and even Tyson wasn't crying yet today, though his eyes were puffy and red from the days before.

Tyson had his arm wrapped around her in an instant, his other hand tilting her face up as his thumb brushed her cheek. He was surprisingly better at comforting people than her, but her tears wouldn't stop. She tried getting them to stop herself, palm at her eyes as a blush crept onto her cheeks. "I'm sorry...," she cried pathetically.

"Don't," Tyson reassured her, guiding her gently towards the casket. They both looked down at grandpa, arms around one another for comfort. They had put pictures and trinkets in with him. Memories to stay with him. "He was a heck of a guy."

The service was beautiful. Hilary, and even Tyson, held themselves together for the entire thing. Hands clasped so tightly together both their knuckles turned white, even though they didn't feel it. It was simple and shared how grandpa had lived his life.

Grandpa had written a lovely message for the service, knowing the day was coming. He wrote to Tyson about his past and his future. How proud he was of the person he had become and how he got to be part of it. How he hated he wouldn't be around to see his wedding or his great-grandchildren, but knew Tyson would figure everything out because he had good friends. Tyson heard every word, head bowed in the front row as he bit his lip and tried not to cry.

It was at the cemetery when Hilary broke once again, the image of the casket being laid in front of what would be grandpa's grave. Tyson's arm was linked around her, pulling her into his side. She pushed her face into his chest to muffle her crying and Tyson just bowed his own head beside hers. The service was done and the crowd was dispersing.

"I'm sorry," Hilary mumbled again into his chest. "He's not even my grandpa."

Tyson was silent. He pulled away slightly from her, cupping her chin gently to make her look up at him. "Is that what this is all about...?" He sighed and wiped at his own tear stained cheeks with his sleeve. "Hilary, you were the granddaughter he never had. He... he loved you."

"B-but..."

"There's no buts." Tyson smiled wistfully, keeping her eyes locked with his. "He was just as much your grandpa as he was mine."

Hilary's lower lip trembled and she broke from his grasp to wrap her arms fully around his neck and pull him in. All the things she held in for over the past week came crashing through and she sobbed loudly into Tyson's chest. He pulled her closer, resting his head on the top of hers as he did his best to soothe her. It was his turn, he decided as they embraced.

He wasn't really Hilary's grandpa, but then again, that never really mattered.


End file.
